


Percival Scissorhands

by inb4invert



Category: Edward Scissorhands (1990), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Don't copy to another site, EARLY 90s, First Time, GRADENCE - Freeform, Inhuman Character, M/M, Rimming, Suburbia, cw for slurs, tim burton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inb4invert/pseuds/inb4invert
Summary: The first time I saw him I thought we were being robbed. Or no, scratch that--maybe I thought he was like, a demon? A demon robber? God, that sounds so stupid now.





	Percival Scissorhands

**Author's Note:**

> This was really fun for me. I've never taken part in a fic challenge, let alone helped create one.  
> This is a totally new style of writing for me so please feel free to let me know what you think! The story is narrated entirely in the voice of a suburban teenage Credence, and I highly encourage hearing it in his voice ;) 
> 
> I've also begun thinking of this fic as SCISSORBONE, so do with that what you will.

_1991\. An American Suburb_. 

The first time I saw him I thought we were being robbed. Or no, scratch that--maybe I thought he was like, a demon? A demon robber? God, that sounds so stupid now.  
Must’ve been something lingering in my mind from back when I used to live at the church orphanage with Mary Lou. So typical, I get scared and I go straight back to the old superstition. 

Maybe I was just tired. I mean, after the long drive home in that cramped, smelly van and what with Henry acting like a total DICK the whole way. I get it, sex is fun and all that, but like… sometimes it's just nice to have somebody hold you, you know? Does that sound stupid? It probably sounds stupid. 

Of course, it's just my luck I'd find a guy who actually _wants_ to hold me for once and he fuckin’ _can't._

But honestly, I can't really be blamed for thinking he was either of those things, at first.  
I thought I was alone in my room, finally some privacy for the first time in days and then suddenly in the mirror behind me all I see is just… crazy hair and like, _knives_. I'm not proud, but I screamed. 

Like I mean, I really screeched like a little girl.  
I probably scared him worse than he scared me because suddenly all those knives were moving, just a flurry of glinting steel and all these jets of water shooting up out of the bed around him. Which of course had me screaming even louder.

Next thing, I'm out in the hallway and everyone's up and stumbling around and I'm just shrieking to Peg about how there's a murderer in my room. I really thought that's what he was. 

She tried to calm me down, which didn't make sense to me at the time, I just thought she wasn't understanding me. And then he comes shuffling out of my room--honestly, did Peg think it was cute putting those pajamas on him? 

Anyway, by that point I was just about ready to pass out, I was so freaked. 

When Peg set me up in the bottom half of Modesty's bunk bed and explained to me that she'd let this guy from the creepy old mansion on the hill just come and _live_ with us, well… I'm surprised I actually _didn't_ pass out then. Instead I had to go downstairs and meet him, our new tenant with the scissors for hands. 

By then, honestly there wasn't really any way to salvage a first impression like that, was there? 

Maybe I'm only saying that now to let myself off the hook, I don't know. But I do know that when I stood there that night in my housecoat and slippers, waiting for this guy to say hello to me like it was supposed to be a normal situation…I didn't want anything to do with him.  
I'm about as proud of that part as I am about the screaming. 

I couldn't figure out what the hell Peg was _thinking_. Like, she just found this bizarre goth dude and brought him home? I think even then, I kind of knew in the back of my mind that he was sort of good looking, but like… he was _so_ weird. Pale and freaky--and under Bill's pajamas he was laced and buckled from ankle to throat in some kind of leather biker shit. Like, he was _strapped_ in. And the hands… where there should have been some, there was just these massive scissors, so many of them, bristling out everywhere, reaching all the way down to his knees. I mean, what the fuck. 

If I'm being really honest? I think what bothered me most about him at first was that I resented him, sort of. 

I mean, he was new and everyone was making such a huge deal about it. They'd already had a big neighbourhood barbeque to welcome him, when really it was just an excuse to gawk at him--everyone being so phoney, slapping him on the back and calling him “Percy” like they were old college buddies.  
And he'd just come down from that spooky old house no one ever goes to or even talks about. He'd been up there by himself for who knows how long. 

I realize now how much that must've reminded me of the church, whether I'd been capable of admitting it at the time or not. And Peg just brings him home like some kind of stray, and it's like, is that what _I_ was, too?  
The whole thing was such a typical circus already, and I'm pretty sure I just couldn't handle how much we actually had in common with each other. I didn't want to have those things in common with him. Not at the time. 

We never did get a proper introduction, as it happened, not even that second attempt in the basement. Bill had already gone and gotten him drunk in like, all of _seven_ minutes and he just fell right off of his stool in front of me with the straw still hanging out of his mouth. So yeah, I wasn't exactly impressed at first. 

 

I tried to avoid him for the most part, which was basically impossible because he was _living_ with us. Every day, there he was, silent and awkward at the dinner table looking like he'd just been grounded, or playing scissors/paper/stone with Modesty out in the yard--which was actually kind of cruel, but he was just too sweet and dumb to get it. 

Peg had dressed him in these old clothes of Bill's that were way too big for him and every time I turned around he was just _there_ : puttering through the neighbourhood stiff as a penguin, all in black and white with his heavy brows and big suspenders like some old-timey Charlie Chaplin. Yeah, _exactly_ like that, actually--like a silent movie comedian just _stuck_ in this pastel nightmare of a suburb. Totally ridiculous. 

Even when I'd leave the house to go to school or hang out with my friends, I couldn't get away from him. 

It was only about a week before all the hedges on every lawn had transformed into some bizarre creature creation of his. The whole neighbourhood was going crazy for it, baking him cookies and getting all excited over their big vision for how they wanted their yard to look. And this was _before_ the whole thing with the dogs and the big Hair Salon Debacle. 

That gross town tramp, Joyce, man, she was the worst of it. Always fussing around him, finding little ways to touch him and just loading it on so hard. Which is stupid because it was obvious to _anyone_ with a clue that he wasn't into women that way. It kind of pissed me off, to be honest. Just watching her buzz around him like a little orange fruit fly, hoping to land on something ripe that clearly wasn't meant for her. _Gross_. 

One day around that time I was walking after school with Henry and some of our friends and Percival saw from across the street and called out to me like an excited little kid. Even though I was always actively trying to ignore him.  
He was in Joyce's yard, trimming her hedge, but as soon as he saw me he was wandering right out like he had half a mind to cross the road and just abandon the job half-finished. 

I don't know why, maybe just politeness, but I nearly went over to him before Henry started making a whole gag out of it, lifting me up and telling Percival to _come get me_. The whole thing was embarrassing and I was probably more flustered than I needed to be, but I kind of wanted to know what he was going to say to me. Joyce looked mad as hell and called him back to her and that was that. Right back into the lion's den, I guess. 

 

I suppose after a week or two I was starting to get used to him, like having a big black bat for a pet or something. And, maybe feeling a little bit bad about how uncomfortable he seemed to be around _me_ , especially. I was also starting to feel kinda bad about how everyone seemed so happy to put him to _use_ , so to speak. 

We'd all be sitting around at Sunday dinner talking and acting like normal while there he was _cutting_ the roast with his scissor hands like some glorified can opener. Bill trying the whole time to explain to him that “you can't buy the necessities of life with cookies” as if he was some Muppet right out of Sesame Street, I mean, _come on_.

Bad enough having to listen to Henry both somehow bragging _and_ complaining about how much cool stuff his dad buys and keeps from him.  
They'd have Percival so worked up and spun around, once he even dropped a slice of beef straight onto my lap instead of the plate.  
Or maybe it wasn't them, maybe that was just how weird he was around _me_. He looked so spooked, just his big sad eyebrows canting up, whispering “sorry” like I was the scariest thing he'd ever seen. He'd act like that around me constantly. 

One time, and I'm not sure here, like I _could_ be wrong--but one time I came home from Henry's in the evening when everyone else had already gone to bed and he was just in the living room alone and..  
Well, I could swear he was looking at my picture, like just staring at it in its frame on the shelf. I'm not totally sure why I thought that because there's lots of other pictures there he could've been looking at. But the way he startled when I came through the door, with this desperate sort of busted look. Almost pleading, kind of? I don't know.  
And then he just whispered, “I’m sorry” and usually he spoke so softly I could barely hear it but this time it was just us and really quiet in the room. It felt kind of like a slap, that apology. I didn't want him to be so scared of me, it was starting to make me feel weird and mixed up. Like I was kind of starting to care what he even thought of me.  
I started to say something, I don't know what, but he bolted back down to the basement. To the stupid hide-a-bed.  
So I just went to bed, too, and I laid there thinking about how that was where I'd first seen him. He'd been there--in my bed. And I'd acted like an idiot.  
I think… I think things started to get a little confusing around then. Like, more than it already was, I mean. 

 

Pretty soon after that the whole thing with the haircuts started up. It spread like wildfire through the neighbourhood, I mean literally just one day while I was in class. 

From what I heard, Percival was cutting a hedge and then just took it upon himself to groom somebody's shaggy dog and then that was IT. Next thing, they're lined up around the block trying to get him to give wacky haircuts to all the dogs in a ten mile radius and at this point I'd probably have to agree with Bill about how he should've been charging. 

And of course, of _fucking_ course it was Joyce who just had to go and get him to cut _her_ hair instead of her stupid dog because God forbid she should lose an opportunity to get his hands on her. Well, I mean, not his _hands_ , but you know what I mean. If I'd been there I'd have given her a piece of my mind and tried to put a stop to the whole thing right then. 

So anyway, by the time I came home from school that day, Peg and every woman in the neighbourhood were sporting some wild new hair-dos.  
And even though he must've been exhausted, Percival was just sitting there so sweetly letting Peg play “Avon lady” with his face, spreading some lilac goop all over it. Which kind of annoyed me too, because like, was it really fair to make such a big deal about his scars? How was that supposed to make him feel? It only made sense that he'd have some, what with having literal _scissor hands_ , and it's not like it looked bad or anything. I mean, they weren't detracting in any way from the fact that he was basically handsome. So why make him feel weird about it? I've got scars too, big freaking deal.  
Anyway, I tried to smile at him that time, just to like, make him feel better about himself. Here he was just helping _everybody_. 

I saw him down at the shopping centre one day right around that time, actually. I was with Henry, just hanging around laughing and kind of making out, and then right when we piled into Denny's van, I saw him.  
He was just standing there with his big unwieldy scissor hands held out at his sides, all these everyday regular people bustling around him doing their shopping. Like something out of another world. Lost.  
He was staring right at us, at me--with this _look_ again. I remember thinking no one ever really looked at me that way before. Henry certainly never did. Like it was hurting him but he couldn't make himself look anywhere else. I didn't like it, but not because I _didn't_ like it. That doesn't make any sense, but that's how I felt. 

 

Pretty soon after that things _really_ got out of control. They had him on TV--this local cable access talk show Peg was always watching. They had him kind of dressed up nice, or at least they _tried_ , with the collar of his white dress shirt popped like some old fifties greaser and a black dress blazer on. Someone from the studio had even tried to make something manageable out of the intense Robert Smith hair he always had going on. Actually, he didn't look half-bad. 

Henry and Modesty and I, we all watched the broadcast after school and it was so bizarre, with the cheesy host grinning at him and Peg and all these local women asking the dumbest questions. One lady suggested he open his own salon, an idea which really took off, as I already mentioned.  
And this one woman, I don't know what the hell she was thinking but she goes and asks if he's got a freakin’ _girlfriend_ , all sappy and dopey like she's hoping maybe he'll ask her out right on the spot there on live TV.

So the host turns and repeats the question, asking if he's got “somebody special.”  
And for a moment--what felt like ages--I just held my breath staring at the screen waiting for his answer. He was looking right into the camera and it felt like he was looking straight at me, and even with Henry and Modesty there next to me I just stared back, feeling like it was that night with the photograph again and it was only the two of us in the room. And I caught myself wishing I'd said something that time, that maybe if I hadn't let him run off… I don't know. Maybe something might've happened. I think I was starting to realize that something kind of _had_ happened. 

And then he leaned right up to the microphone and caught his scissors on a wire and zapped himself. All the air came out of me in a rush and Henry, the asshole, was laughing. He couldn't get enough of it. We ended up getting into a whole argument thing about it afterward. It seemed like we were arguing more and more those days. Since Percival came. 

Later, like at bedtime kind of later, I thought for a long time about that moment, with him staring into me through the camera and how I never got to hear what he was going to say. Even hours later I was all fluttery in my stomach, thinking about what if he'd said yes, there _was_ somebody. And I knew how crazy it would make me feel if he said it was _me_ , but like, it would've made me feel even more freaked out if he'd said it was somebody else. 

 

And then: the hair salon. 

All the neighbourhood women were up in a tizzy about the whole prospect of Percival having this business. And it made sense, I mean, if he was going to have a shot at making a living, this was probably it. But more and more it was starting to bug me, this thing with everybody making plans for him.  
Originally, I had thought it just bothered me he was getting so much attention, but now it seemed like maybe no one was asking him what it was _he_ really wanted? I kept thinking about the talk show still--his dark eyes and that anticipation--finally maybe about to hear how he really _felt_. I guess I was still chewing on that disappointment. 

Stupid fucking Joyce, again, of course she was behind so much of it. Dragging him around, talking about naming the place “Shear Heaven,” how dumb is _that_?  
After she'd been with him all one afternoon, he showed up late for dinner at the diner, kind of flustered and disheveled, and said she'd _taken her clothes off in the back room_ like it was nothing.  
Everyone just let the comment pass out of discomfort, I guess, but I was just sitting there feeling like I'd been sucker punched. I stared at him, wanting and not wanting to know more and I could feel tears stinging at my eyes. Like, rage tears. I felt sick.  
I thought it was because Joyce was clearly trying to take advantage of him and it was _wrong_ , but what was really wrong was the idea of her touching him. What had she done, what had _they_ done? In the “back room.” Fucking _gross_.  
My throat was so tight, I couldn't finish eating and everyone just kept talking about the stupid salon like it was fine. Like he was just going to take out a loan, open a salon and get married to fucking _Joyce_ and make little scissor babies. I could feel the heat of him next to me in the booth, his leg pressed up against mine and the whole time I just wanted to puke. 

I cried in bed that night after dinner, like a stupid baby. A baby because _crying_ and stupid because I didn't even know why. 

 

I'll probably never stop blaming myself for everything that happened next. 

Henry had this scheme he'd cooked up, this idea about getting me to get Percival to break into Henry's house. To steal his dad's stuff, which he was obsessed with, to get a van of his own, which he was even _more_ obsessed with.  
I don't know how he expected nobody to notice he suddenly had money for a new van, but he was insistent that it would work. 

I hated the whole thing, of course, and I tried to talk him out of it, but there's no talking Henry out of _anything_.  
He called Percival “Razor Blades,” and I _really_ hated that. To be honest, I was more than a little scared of Henry at this point. We'd been going out for a while, fucking and hanging out with our friends and everything. But being around him was starting to feel more and more like living with Mary Lou. Like I didn't really have a say in what was going to happen, and if I tried to have a say, I was gonna pay for it. 

So I asked Percival to do it. To do the break-in. Sort of ironic when I'd thought he was a burglar in the first place. 

So the weekend rolled around and we went through with the whole thing, or at least we tried to. 

We were all dressed in black like some dumb heist movie on TV or something. Henry and Denny had put Percival in a black baseball cap and a satin windbreaker and he sat next to me in the van all quiet with his hair trailing down out of the cap like some metalhead stoner. And the whole time I was thinking _I don't want to do this, we can't do this to him_. 

I feel ashamed of myself to admit that _this_ was the moment the other shoe finally dropped, but riding in the van on the way to Henry's house, in my panic and all my racing fears I just looked at him and I was like.  
He looked _so_ good… and I don't know, kind of pure, and so vulnerable. And I just thought _I want him_. 

Am I horrible? Maybe it was the adrenaline of what we were about to do, but I just, I was getting kind of turned on by him.  
Before I could really even process it, we were pulling up to the house, telling him these lies about whose place it even was. And then it all went to shit. 

He went in there like a professional, just picking the lock like whistling Dixie, and because I'm _sick_ , that got me turned on, too. But that didn't last long because the alarm system went off the second he got into the room, and he was locked inside. 

The rest was kind of a blur for me: Henry dragging me into the van with all the sirens screeching and me screaming even louder. I pleaded with him and Denny to turn around and go back we _can't just leave him_! But they wouldn't listen, especially Henry. 

I heard the cops came to the house while we hid out in the parked van like asshole cowards. I was crying the whole time, defeated, and I heard Henry call me a faggot under his breath, which just made me cry even harder. Because I knew now how I felt about Henry and even worse, how I felt about _Percival_. 

And I'd just completely fucked him over. 

The arrest was a whole big scene people were talking about for days, obviously. Some of the neighbour ladies stopped him from almost getting gunned down and I actually threw up in Suzanne's bathroom sink when I found that out. Percival spent the whole night in jail and I didn't sleep a wink. Henry slept just fine. 

The next afternoon, after he'd been released, I came home and found him there in the living room. I could swear he was looking at my picture. Just the two of us again. 

I said, “You're here,” like an idiot. And I went right up to him and asked him if they'd hurt him, if he'd been scared, but he couldn't even look me in the eyes and just shook his head.  
I thanked him for not telling on us and he just said, “You're welcome,” still not looking me in the eyes. Which made me almost cry again, because I just felt like shit about what we'd done and now I was sure he hated me. 

And then I mentioned how he must've felt awful when he found out whose house it was, and he told me he already knew.  
I was completely winded, hearing that. I couldn't understand it.  
I needed to know why he'd done it, so I asked him _that_ , and he said, “Because you asked me to.” And finally he was looking me in the eyes.  
I might've cried right then, if Henry hadn't shown up and called me out into the yard. 

I went out there on the lawn and we fought about everything that had happened. I wanted Henry to tell the truth, but he refused and reminded me I was just as guilty. Which was true.  
I stormed off on him and I'm not sure if I was more angry about what he'd done with the robbery or if it was more that he'd interrupted whatever was going on between me and Percival just then.  
When I got back into the house, Percival was gone and the drapes had been slashed. And then I knew for sure he hated me and I pretty much wanted to die. 

 

That night… that night was when it all kind of changed. I say “kind of” like it wasn't the most epic thing that ever happened to me. 

All through dinner, listening to the whole family arguing about how to teach Percival correct moral values, I wanted to scream. He was the only one at the table who even _had_ any morals and he and I were the only ones who knew it. Well, I'm not actually sure if _he_ knew it, but I sure did. I don't know if he wrecked the drapes and the bathroom because he was angry with me or what, but I'd somehow gotten him into even worse trouble.  
I kept trying to catch his eye, smile at him, take his side in things. Trying to show him we were together in something, but he wasn't having it. And why would he? Let's be real, I deserved that. 

But later… after everyone had gone to bed, I was crying again and I couldn't stand it anymore. He was there in the house, I could _feel_ him and I just needed to say something, _do_ something. So I figured fuck it, honesty time. 

I went downstairs as quietly as I could and he was lying there on the hide-a-bed, in those stupid pajamas with the blankets pulled up to his chin. His eyes were huge and he kind of pulled the sheets up even further like some scandalised old lady caught naked. Which was adorable. 

I sat down next to him on the bed and I turned on the little light on the table and asked him if we could talk. He just nodded. 

I said I was sorry again and I started crying harder than I was before upstairs in my room. He sat up a little in bed and tried to reach one of his scissors towards my face to reassure me before he remembered and pulled back again. 

I'm selfish, but I asked him if he hated me because that's all I cared about anymore. And he said no, so I wiped my eyes and asked him how he _did_ feel about me and he said, “I like you.” Which made me smile a bit. And then he went on and said, “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” in this wistful way and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I almost thought I hadn't heard him right. 

He had done something awful _just_ because I asked him to, to make me happy. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. And here he was saying he thinks I'm beautiful and I guess I just kind of lost it because next thing I knew I was asking him if I could kiss him and he said, “Yes,” before I'd even gotten all the words out. 

Now bear with me, I know this is a lot, but like… I've gotta do this part justice. 

Suddenly I'm kissing him, sloppy, wet half-crying tongue kissing like a messy slut and he doesn't even mind. Because he's kissing me back just as good and I could feel him trying to put his arms around me, the blades just hovering over me so close and I couldn't help it, I _moaned_. 

It's not like I was any kind of virgin, but I'd never been so turned on in my life--I was so hard and wanted him to fuck me so bad, now I was crying about that, _too_. 

I started undoing his pajama top, my hands all shaky and his tongue pushing hot in my mouth just making me think even more about getting his cock inside me. I think he wanted to help me undo his shirt--his scissors were fluttering all around without ever touching and I _loved_ it.

I loved having the control, getting to undress him, getting to finally see what was underneath all the buckled skin-tight leather. I got his pajamas off in record time, straddling his legs and sort of grinding in frustration while I fought with the fastenings of his crazy bondage pants. He was panting, looking up at me like I was the greatest thing and I was honestly worried I might just cum. 

Now, I know that he was created, like, _made_ by an inventor or something, but I'm telling you, whoever that guy was, he had to be gay. Because oh my god, I've never even imagined a cock as perfect as this one. Unlatching the hooks and pulling the straps and buckles, it pissed me off at first but then it was like unwrapping a _gift_. I looked at him for a moment like I was asking if this was really real and he was just watching me, mesmerized. 

So I got down and started to tongue it. No beating around the bush.

At the first lick, he arched up off the bed like he'd been electrocuted, and the sob he let out had me pressing my own hard-on down into the sheets just to get some relief.  
I couldn't fit the whole thing in my mouth all at once, so I just wrapped my fist around the base and suckled at the cherry head of it, flicking my tongue. I don't know how, but he tasted almost sweet, like cotton candy melting on my tongue or something. And his legs were spread and he was thrusting gently up as if he was afraid to hurt me, making these pained little sounds. I've never wanted to make somebody cum so badly, I swear. 

I knew neither of us was going to last long, and I was pretty sure this was his first _anything_ (I tried hard not to think about Joyce) so I wanted to do it right. 

There was still a bottle of lube stashed in a secret drawer down there, that I remembered keeping from the earlier days when Henry and I used to sneak down to the basement to fuck around. It was hard to do it, but I quickly got up and went to grab it, Percival reaching after me with his scissor hands helplessly the whole time. 

It didn't take much for me to work myself up to the point where I was ready to take him, and honestly I didn't even care if it hurt a bit. 

I was crouched over him with my shirt still on, plaid pj bottoms on the floor, fingering myself hard and just almost moaning into his open mouth more than really kissing. The look on his face, that almost comical little puppy frown, it was so cute and sexy I was going insane needing him.  
It's like as if now that I was finally letting it, his hotness was hitting me all at once and I could hardly take it: the way he was like a grumpy dad and a curious little boy all at once, the bits of silver at his temples, the brush of stubble along his jaw against my skin, the fact that practically the first real thing he'd ever said to me was that i'm _beautiful_ … 

I held my breath and locked eyes with him when I finally sunk down onto his cock. At first, it was like we were both afraid to move it was so good. His blades were skimming along my hips, making me shiver all over and I'd never been so full up before--I mean, I was taking some DICK. I wanted to take even more so I took his wrists and pulled his scissors up over his head and just started to _ride_. 

God, the sight of him. He couldn't take his eyes off me, it was like that time when I caught him staring at my picture, or that time at the shopping centre. Or when he stared straight into me through the TV. The way he looked at me--like he'd never seen the sun before and was gonna make up for lost time by staring into it until it burned him blind.  
And the little sounds he made: soft, trembling whimpers and tiny hiccuping sobs as he watched me ride him like an actual whore. He could've killed me, could've been the deadliest man in the world if he wanted to and instead he was letting me hold him down and impale myself on him. And loving it. 

I knew I was getting so close, so I let go of his wrists and put my hand around myself. I was so hard it almost stung to touch it and I hissed, rocking back and forth on him. He was looking up at me, saying _Credence_ again and again, almost sounding scared like he'd never cum before and didn't even know what it was. 

And then… oh my god, and then.  
He just reached up with his scissors and slit open my favourite t-shirt from hem to neckline, and I didn't even care because his mouth was hot on my nipple and he was groaning like it _hurt_ , like he was dying.

I came--fuck, I came _so_ hard, jerking off and spurting up rope after rope over my chest and he was _licking_ it-- just. Fucking up into me and shuddering with what might actually be his _first_ orgasm and… tasting my cum like he'd been hungry for it his whole life. 

I genuinely don't know what Henry and I had been doing up until then, but it sure as hell wasn't sex. 

 

After that, we had to try pretty hard to pretend like we weren't getting each other off at every possible chance. Like we weren't completely in love.  
I mean, almost over night, I was so devoted to him. Ready to protect him and also teach him everything about how good we could make each other feel. Which I can't lie, was pretty much the name of the game from there on in.  
Because Percy was insatiable. 

Once we'd done it, there was no getting either of us off that train. He was good at everything, the lawn sculptures, the hair styling, and let's face it: fucking. Thank god it was our little secret, or else the neighbourhood ladies would _really_ be piled up around the block, Joyce front and centre. Even if he _had_ got arrested.

Everyone by that point was turning against him, which kind of bummed him out but I didn't care what anybody said because I knew the truth. He still had so much to learn, and now that that mediocre business with Henry was all over (it _was_ ), I had some serious catching up to do, myself. 

At night, I'd go down to the basement and we'd fuck like rabbits, biting the pillow and just doing whatever we could to be quiet. That part wasn't easy, not at all. 

One time around then, he couldn't even wait until everyone had gone to bed. We'd been making eyes at other across the table all through Sunday dinner and I think Peg was actually starting to pick up on something.  
After we finished eating, I went to my room and the rest of the family was watching some dumb show on TV. I guess Percy made some excuse to them and snuck off, because the next thing I knew he was in my room, down on his knees and letting me fuck into his mouth like the Sunday roast hadn't been quite enough for him. Looking up at me with these big eyes like _am I doing this right_ and getting me to where I was just shaking, almost crying. Holy shit, like I actually love him _so_ much. 

And he was really good about wanting to try _everything_ , not like Henry, the one-trick pony. 

Oh! One time, oh my god, this one time… Everyone went to the bowling alley after dinner and I said I had homework or some other bullshit. Percy stayed home with me of course, talking about fixing up the yard again. 

When everyone was gone, I led him by the hand into my room and it was almost kind of romantic, you know? I don't think we'd ever been properly alone before. I wanted to make it good, like really take the opportunity for something special. Which was perfect, because he said he wanted me to top, and like, I _never_ used to get to do that, so I was pretty excited. 

I took my time just getting all his gear off, every bit of it, so I had him naked for the first time. And God, he was just gorgeous--all pale and his skin was almost silky to touch. My room used to belong to a little girl they'd fostered before me, and I laid him out on the little canopy water bed and sucked him off for a bit, getting him all worked up and groaning. 

And then… then I got him to lie on his stomach and I ate him out all deep and slow and I don't even think he knew that was a _thing_ until then. He was going crazy for it, with the water bed rocking and undulating underneath him, moaning and begging and pushing up onto my fingers. 

I had to get him nice and ready because he'd never bottomed before, and while his dick is literally perfect, I'm not exactly a little guy, either. But soon enough, what with him pleading like that, I was sliding into him tight and hot and it was just beautiful. So good. 

I've never felt anything so right in my life, to be honest. Just pressed right up against his naked skin, kissing the back of his neck and giving it to him with everything I've got. I mean, it wasn't just fucking, we were really making _love_. Nobody was around so we didn't exactly have to be quiet and before long he was sobbing out my name, bucking and cumming hard on my dick, pulling me over the edge.  
Afterward, I just laid there with my head tucked on his shoulders, braced in his arms and all those scissor blades around me like a shield. I'd never felt so safe before. 

Which came in pretty handy later on, because I had no idea how bad things were about to get. 

 

People in the neighbourhood were talking shit about Percy all the time at this point, mostly getting egged on by that Esmeralda, the crazy church lady down the street. There's always gotta be one of those, huh? 

I wasn't talking to Henry at all at this point, which was fully pissing him off. He was always trying to call and show up, it was so annoying. 

So Peg was planning on having our usual Christmas party even though it was obvious that no one was going to come. I still dressed up in a white satin blazer and all that and we decorated the house like it was any other year.  
And then it happened. 

Percy was carving this amazing ice sculpture out on the lawn and all the shavings were flying around on the air like snow, which was beautiful. I went out there and was kind of swirling around in it, just smiling.  
He finished carving with a sort of flourish and accidentally caught my hand with his scissors. It wasn't a big deal at all, but of course Henry had to decide to show up right at that moment.  
He made a huge thing out of it, acting like he gave a shit about whether I'm ok and everything.  
Peg came out to see the commotion and pulled me into the house for some first aid--meanwhile, Henry basically chased Percy off. 

I was furious about that, like _really_ mad. I shoved Henry and told him I don't love him, that I don't want to see him around anymore. And he _knew_ , like he totally knew it was about Percy and how he and I were a thing together. Which was bound to get him on the war path. 

The whole thing was nuts and it escalated pretty fast. Peg and Bill went out to find Percy, and it turned out he'd been out in the neighbourhood kind of venting, mostly prank type stuff like cutting Esmeralda's hedges into a devil ( which is pretty hilarious, when you think about it.) 

Percy came home and found me while everyone was gone and we just held each other and made out a little. I was so, so weak for him, like at this point I was just _me and Percy all the way to the end_. 

And then fucking Henry and Denny, drunk as a pair of skunks, almost hit Modesty with the van. If Percy hadn't seen what was about to happen, she'd be dead now, for sure. He ran out and saved her, but her face got nicked by his scissors in the process and then the whole neighbourhood was losing their minds--calling the police, saying he was going around attacking everyone. Which is insane because all he ever does is help like, _everybody_.  
I just looked at him and told him to run. And he did. 

He ran all the way back up to his mansion on the hill and the cops followed him the whole way. I thought the officer's heart wasn't really in it, but then I heard gun shots and he came back telling everyone to “go home, it's all over.” That had me in a panic, obviously. 

Everyone went home like the cop told them to but I knew that wouldn't last. I ran up there to see if he was ok, just frantic thinking he might be dead, which I could barely let myself think about.  
When I found him hiding upstairs, crouched down next to the collage he'd made in the empty fireplace, I nearly collapsed with relief. 

He was just worried about whether or not Modesty was hurt, because he's wonderful. But we both knew everyone was going to try coming up there soon. 

And then Henry showed up with his father's gun. If shit hadn't already gotten _real_ enough, they did then. 

The whole thing was chaos and it all happened so fast, but basically Henry fired the gun and missed because he was a crappy shot. Part of the roof came down on Percy, and Henry tossed me across the room like I was nothing but a bundle of sticks when I tried to get the gun away from him.  
I was scared for Percy, but he got back up and then Henry started going to town on him, just drunk and kicking, really trying to kill him. He grabbed an old poker from the fireplace and started beating Percy so he couldn't get up, just hitting him with it again and again. 

I didn't care anymore about anything but saving Percy. I grabbed a piece of the broken roof and hit Henry with it to try and get him to stop. He fell down and I took Percy's arm and held the scissors up to Henry's throat and said _I'd kill him myself_ if I had to.  
And then he slapped me and kicked me away from him, back across the room. 

That was it for Percy. He came up like some avenging angel--I'd never seen him angry before, but Henry had hurt me and he was all fury over it. His eyes were like blazing fire and he just… Henry almost sort of walked right into his blades and Percy, he just ran him through and shoved him out the window. When he fell, Henry had this dumb, shocked look on his face and I remember thinking _good_. 

All I wanted was Percy, but everyone was gathering outside again and I had to think, like, _fast_. I went downstairs and found an old spare set of scissor hands on a work bench and brought them outside with me. People were screaming and pointing at Henry's body and I just brandished the scissors and said they'd killed each other. Of course, they were all just so dumb and complacent, they believed me. And then they left. 

Of course I went right back up there to Percy and we kissed and fucked on the bare floor like it was gonna save our lives. Like we were each other's air, promising we'd never leave each other and always be together.  
If I thought he made me feel safe and loved before, well… feeling him moving hard and fast inside me under that broken roof, with his eyes burning up at me from his pale face and Henry's blood still fresh on his blades… I knew we'd die for each other. When I came, I came vowing that I'd kill to keep him with me if I had to. Percy's the love of my life, all the way. My soulmate. 

 

I'm at college here in town now and I go out to the mansion as often as I can, which most of the time is almost every day. Sometimes I bring flowers to the lawn and everyone thinks I'm still grieving Henry, so they don't question it. I'm getting into real estate and as soon as I graduate I'm gonna do everything I can to buy that mansion and fix it up for us both. 

I'll live up there and tell everyone it's for sentimental reasons, which isn't exactly a lie anyway. Nobody will bother us up there--it'll be easy to keep them believing that Percy's dead. And I'll still be able to come down and visit Peg and Bill and Modesty and sell little housing units to people like a normal everyday person. 

But Percy and I, we don't belong down there and we never did. I think I always knew that, even before he showed up. Which is just fine with me--it's great actually. Because we belong with each other. And I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
